


Empyrean Detritus

by JediMordsith



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Origins, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-24 04:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMordsith/pseuds/JediMordsith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to two prompts re: Mara Jade finds out who her parents were, and it's not a happy discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an unofficial submission for a Mara Jade FanFic Exchange (link in end notes). The two original prompts are provided below. 
> 
> I went WAY over and beyond the target word count, but once I got going, it all just kind of wrote itself... as it does, you know. Enjoy!
> 
> Empyrean (n): the highest heaven, supposed by the ancients to contain the pure element of fire.

Mara Jade collapsed to the floor of the _Fire's_ cargo hold, soaked in sweat, every muscle quivering from over-exertion. Her eyes fluttered closed and she let the cold of the decking seep into her, willing it to anesthetize her until she was utterly numb.

_He lied. I didn't have potential. I wasn't taken because I was special, gifted. It was never about **me** at all– any of it. I was nothing but cosmic flotsam, one more vulgar stain on the pristine robes of the Old Order. _

She'd always prided herself on being able to sift fact from fiction. In her life as the Emperor's Hand she'd excelled at spotting deception; that ability had been a mainstay of her work in rooting out corruption within the highest echelons of the Empire.

_Fool. Di'kut. Blind, ignorant bicce. You thought you were so smart, and he was playing you every day of your life. Playing you before you were born, and you never had a clue._

Mara had grounded her entire life, her whole sense of self, in serving a _purpose_. Cruel, grueling years of isolation from anyone but her trainers and teachers. Endless parades of days that blurred together in a haze of brutal training regimens and strict adherence to the most rigorous educational standards on every subject. She'd accepted them – embraced them, even – because she had a purpose. A goal. When she'd been officially put into service as the Hand – _Force_ , had it really been so young? - her sense of _rightness_ had instantly doubled. She was necessary, and needed. What more could she have asked for from life?

_But it wasn't true. I was nothing. Am nothing. Just a spare part – detritus from a failed plan, carelessly tossed into a random experiment for shavit and giggles out of a general abhorrence of waste._

The data pad that had destroyed her life lay on the floor across the hold, half-skidded under a storage locker where she'd hurled it with a scream half a day ago. It was the third time her life had been ripped out from under her, and she was ready to stop counting. Stop building lives that could be torn away from her. Stop hoping that if she just worked hard enough she could make something good of and for herself.

_I should know better by now._ _This is my Sisyphean punishment for all my sins under the Empire._ _For the sins of my parents._ _There will never be anything but this for me – I was born to it. Literally._ _I should have died with the Emperor._

The truth was bitter on her tongue, but then that was appropriate wasn't it? He'd given her a clue from the first, she'd just been too blind and stupid to see it.

_Mara – my very name means 'bitter'. His bitterness at having invested a breath of energy in something so pitifully useless? A pox on my life for being the offspring of traitors and fools? A prophesy from the Force?_

Bile rose in her throat. _Or a_ _ll of the above._

Somewhere beyond her a reversion alert chimed, reminding her to check the systems. The _Fire_ was due to drop out of hyperspace in fifteen minutes. There'd be little time after that to pull herself together – she had a drop to make. She wasn't sure it mattered any more. Wasn't sure anything did. But it would do no one any good for her to lay around wallowing in self-pity.

_You're enough of a burden already. Don't make it worse by sulking like a moody bantha._

If she decided she couldn't deal with the truths she'd uncovered, she would at least have decency to kill herself cleanly. She could give herself that much – it was more than anyone else ever had. _Force knows that'd be one task I'd be plenty good at._

Everything hurt and her body screeched it's protests from her scalp to her toes when she shoved her palms against the deck plates. Laboriously forcing herself upright, she staggered toward the cockpit, commanding her body to obey her and shut up about it. Her purpose at the moment, such as it was, might have been infinitesimally small and unimportant in larger scheme of things, but for now it would be enough.

Enough to see her through the next few hours, until she could figure out what the hell she was going to do about the fact that she should never have been born.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara gets some wise advice from a friend who is uniquely qualified to empathize.

Leia Organa Solo's lips curved into slight but genuine smile when she saw the bright orange paint in the shape of flames licking across the hull of the sleek silver ship settling with practiced grace onto the docking pad in front of her. When she'd ordered a full compliment of supplies to restock the far-flung diplomatic outpost she was sorting out, she hadn't realized her favorite Trader would take the run. Given everything she'd seen fit to requisition in the wake of discovering the previous overseer's breathtaking incompetence, she guessed the _Fire_ must be loaded to the gills.

A moment later, the main hatch opened and a woman only a few inches taller than her own petite form strode down the ramp. A chill prickle scuttled across Leia's skin, despite the pleasantly warm day. Mara's shields were up tightly, which wasn't uncommon in and of itself, and her attire was as impeccable as always. But a disturbing sensation of… _hollowness_ was the closest word she put to it, trailed the red head in the Force like the crystalline tail of a comet.

“Master Trader Jade,” she greeted formally. “Thank you for coming.”

“Madam Counselor,” Mara inclined her head in equally regal greeting. “The ship is secured. Your staff can begin the unloading at their convenience.”

Leia nodded and summoned the outpost's temporary Director with a discrete hand flick. “Poldron, see that these supplies get unloaded immediately,” she instructed. “Take however much time you need to. It's critical that the staff is reintroduced - and held - to the correct procedures on this.”

“Yes, Counselor,” the man agreed, hurrying away and calling orders to the waiting crew.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Leia turned back to Mara. “What's wrong?” She asked bluntly.

There was no more point in lying to Organa Solo than to her brother – possibly even less. Her Force gifting ran directly to detecting and interpreting emotions and intentions. Mara was, however, an expert in not talking about things. It was on the tip of her tongue to politely inform the former Princess that it was nothing for her to concern herself with when a stray thought sank it's teeth sharply into the mess that had replaced her typically ordered mind. It was not the kind of thing she would normally have entertained for even a fraction of a second, but the logic circuit of her brain was blithely on board with it today.

_You're going to have to rethink your life (again, dammit!) or kill yourself, so you really haven't got much to lose at this point anyway. Why not?_

“Can we get some caff?”

Surprised but immensely pleased that Mara appeared to be actually prepared to tell her something, rather than brush off her concern (as was her habit), Leia responded at once. “Of course.”

Linking her arm with Mara's she headed for the cramped office she had commandeered for her stay. “It's going to take them entirely too long to unload,” she commented, “so caff is exactly in order.”

Ushering Mara toward one of the ancient but still serviceable chairs tucked into a corner of the room, Leia fussed with the small caff pot she kept for personal use. In short order, she had two steaming mugs of mostly decent brew. Mara accepted one, but simply sat with it in her lap as Leia sank into the chair beside her. She didn't say anything, just waited.

Mara stared blankly at the flowered porcelain of her mug for a moment, appearing to gather herself. Leia wondered what on Hoth could have happened to so upset the equilibrium of the usually unshakable Trader. After a moment, Mara produced a data pad from one of the cargo pockets on her pants and handed it to Leia.

“Do you recognize her?”

Leia accepted the pad and examined the holo of a petite, serious-looking brown-haired woman in a formal gown. She sipped her caff and frowned in concentration as she dug through her memory, wishing briefly that Winter was on hand. The woman and her outfit were familiar, and Winter's flawless memory would have been able to place them instantly.

“She looks familiar,” Leia admitted, tipping her head and rifling harder through her memories. “I'm having trouble placing where, though.”

“She worked briefly in the royal house of Alderaan,” Mara said, her tone unnervingly detached. “But she was originally from Naboo. A handmaiden of Padme Amidala, named Dorme.”

“Dorme,” Leia repeated softly, setting the pad on the tiny round table between them. Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Luke found a list of Padme's handmaidens in one of the Naboo archives he visited a few years ago,” she remembered. “I'm afraid I can't remember them all, but she certainly has the right look for the position.”

Mara lifted dull eyes to meet Leia's. “She gave birth to me.”

The Princess's eyes went wide. “You found your mother?!”

Mara shook her head sharply, and this time her voice held heat. “ _No._ She's not my mother.” _Mother would imply caring, and she certainly never did any of that._ “She was -.”

Was what, exactly? A traitor? Certainly. A deluded pawn in a game she didn't understand? Maybe. Calculating and manipulative? Equally possible. More likely, actually – wouldn't that explain why Mara had taken so easily to her role as an assassin?

A part of her recoiled at the suggestion that such darkness could be endemic to her very soul. A small, angry voice railed defensively that she'd never _enjoyed_ killing. She'd never done it for sport, gloated or relished anyone's suffering. She'd done what she'd been taught and ordered because it was necessary to survive, not because she wanted to toy with or torment others.

_I'm not like her._ _ **I'm not.**_ _Force, who am I convincing? I sound like a petulant child._

“She was to you what Vader was to me?” Leia offered, gently.

Compassion shimmered off of her in invisible waves, and for a second Mara tensed. But there was no undercurrent of pity, only shared understanding, and the tension passed.

“Yes.”

“And your father?”

Mara's fingers flexed around her still untouched mug. “Dorme seduced him at Palpatine's behest, to create a lure. But it didn't work.”

It was a testament to the magnitude of horrors she'd seen and personally survived that Leia merely grimaced in sympathy at the nasty admission.

“You were intended to be an instrument. Leverage.”

Mara felt echoes of her own bitterness in the feelings rippling off Leia in the Force. For all that she'd been a beloved Princess, she knew what it was to be born into service. Had Alderaan not been destroyed, she'd likely have been expected to barter herself for political gain. Even the New Republic had floated the idea a few times before her permanent attachment to Han had been accepted.

Mara nodded.

“What happened?”

“They lost track of him.” Absently, she finally sipped her caff, but the taste never registered on her tongue. “It looks like the liaison happened when they were both visiting your father – Bail.”

Leia sent a soft pulse of gratitude at that. With the revelations about Vader, protecting the memory of Bail Organa and his status as her father had become all the more important to her.

“She conceived, as planned, but never got him to tell her where he was hiding. They parted ways before she could tell him about me. Dorme tried to use the pregnancy to coerce Organa into telling her, but he'd already uncovered her ties to Palpatine and refused.” Mara closed her eyes. “After that, we were both just loose ends.”

Leia reached a hand out and squeezed the Trader's arm. Her heart ached for Mara and both their fathers. For Mara's father, who apparently had no idea what a precious gift had been withheld from him. For Bail, whose enormous heart must surely have broken at the Stygian choice he'd been forced to make. Deny a friend the right to know about his own child, or thrust him into a fatal trap baited with the cruelest of snares? An impossible decision made all the more tragic for his inability to do anything for the innocent child – _Mara_ – either way. How it must have sliced at his generous soul to know she would be condemned to the clutches of the same hell from which Luke and Leia had been so narrowly plucked.

“Who was he, your father?”

“Obi-wan Kenobi.”

Leia was thankful she'd set her mug down, or she'd surely have spilled caff everywhere. “I see.”

“I know,” Mara said ruefully. “It explains why Farmboy's always been certain of my potential in the Force.”

“Luke believes in your potential because he knows _you_ , Mara,” Leia corrected, firmly.

Tired green eyes opened and stared into rich, compassionate brown. “Could you do it? Rebuild yourself _again_?”

It was a question she could ask no one but Leia. Leia, who'd lost everything when Alderaan was destroyed. Whose fundamental perceptions of herself had been eviscerated by the revelation of her true lineage. She was the only other person Mara knew who'd been incinerated to ashes twice and come back just as strong.

The last Princess of Alderaan reached over, removed Mara's mug from her white-knuckled hands, and placed it on the table. Grasping both of the red-head's hands in her own, she leaned forward and squeezed hard.

“As long as I have something to fight for, and someone to fight with,” she averred clearly, “I can rebuild as many times as I have to.”

Mara nodded. “Right.”

Something in her spirit sighed in pained resignation. _So much for_ _offi_ _ng myself as a viable solution._ It would have been the easiest route, but then she'd never been allowed easy. At the same time, a minute wisp of hope unfurled somewhere deep inside her. _I can do this._

The comm chirped, and Leia released Mara's hands to rise and hit the button on the desk. “Yes?”

“We're done unloading, Counselor.”

“Thank you.” It clicked off, and Leia turned to see Mara already standing.

“I should go. Thank you for the caff.”

“I'll walk you out.”

They made the short walk back to the docking bay in silence. Both automatically did their jobs when they got there, inspecting the unloading job and verifying everything had been done to spec and that the _Fire_ was ready for departure. They were alone in the bay as Mara started to head up the ramp.

“Mara.”

Leia's voice stopped her, and she turned. Organa Solo stood tall and reserved, her arms folded across her chest, but radiated a warmth in the Force that left no doubt she was Luke Skywalker's twin.

“I didn't rebuild by myself. I suggest that you don't this time, either.”

With a wordless pulse of thanks and a snapped two-fingered salute, Mara disappeared into her ship.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon Karrde makes an appearance, because he's much too wonderful to be left out...

The _Marble Mynock_ tap-caff was nestled snugly into an out-of-the-way nook of the deceptively orderly labyrinth that was Coruscant's gleaming upper levels, not far from the main port. A generous tip to the twi'lek manning the door saw Mara quickly ensconced in her preferred table in the back corner. A few minutes later, she had swept the area for listening devices and nosy patrons, set up a jammer so she could speak freely, and was pouring two cups of perfectly made, high-end caff from the steaming, freshly delivered pot.

Talon Karrde slid into the seat across from her, fastidiously dressed and calm of demeanor as ever. Dark, keen eyes the color of shadowed sapphires skimmed over her, missing nothing as he lifted his mug at her in combined thanks and greeting.

“Mara.”

He didn't tell her she was looking well, because it wouldn't have been quite true. Certainly, she'd look prosperous and healthy enough to anyone else. But he knew her too well to overlook the subtle signs of tension that lined her body or the set of her mouth and glint in her eyes that spoke of edgy determination.

“Karrde. Thanks for meeting me.”

That made his lips quirk in amusement. “You know I never miss a chance to indulge in a piece of the _Mynock's_ cheesekake and write it off as a business expense.” 

As if on cue, the sumptuous slice of the aforementioned delicacy she'd ordered for him arrived. The server, well acquainted with the perils of infringing on private conversations, double checked that they had everything they needed before swiftly disappearing.

Karrde flicked a starched, snowy napkin into place over his lap and lifted his fork. “What can I do for you, my dear?”

Mara slid a data pad across the table to the edge of his plate. “I want you to buy me out.”

Only long experience at maintaining unruffled composure in the face of even the most absurd twists of fate allowed Karrde to finish chewing his rich, smooth dessert without changing his politely interested expression and then swallow without choking. Internally, he rapidly flicked through everything he knew about Mara's recent activities, looking for the impetus behind this unexpected request.

He set down his fork, but didn't touch the data pad. “Not enjoying being your own boss?”

The question sounded casual but was, in fact, crucial. He'd helped her go out on her own not because he didn't want her – he couldn't imagine  _ever_ not wanting her - but because the experience would be profoundly to her benefit when she eventually inherited his organization. He'd known within months of picking her up on that backwater world so many years ago  that  he would someday leave  everything to her, and his resolve on that course had only grown with time. 

She had never trusted easily, and never been particularly open about her feelings even with the few people she trusted implicitly. But, in the two months since she'd spoken to Leia, Mara had excavated the murky depths of her soul and charted herself a new course. The vulnerability she'd have to show Karrde to bring it to fruition was a necessary and acceptable sacrifice.

“It's not about the work – I'm happy with that.” she shook her head. “I've worked out the kinks, set myself up a good system, and I'm making excellent money.”

A silent sigh a relief trickled through him at the words _I'm happy with that_ , and Karrde finally rested two fingers on the edge of the pad and slid it toward himself, eyes never leaving his companion.

“I've had cause to reexamine my life, recently,” she continued, meeting his gaze evenly, unconsciously lifting her chin slightly under the feeling of scrutiny. The words had sounded odd and a bit embarrassing when she'd first considered them, but weeks of examining and discarding alternatives had convinced her there was no better option than just being blunt.

“It's not worth it just for me, Talon. I've spent too much of my life in hell-holes to need luxury, and if I could be content doing nothing I could retire tomorrow. But we both know I'm never going to retire any more than you are. I'm never going to have a child to pass a fortune or estate down to, and I'm already infamous enough for six lifetimes. Nothing I do as an independent Trader _matters._ But _you_ – you matter. Dankin, and Aves and Faughn and Ghent – you all matter. ” She faltered, and looked down at her mug before finishing softly, “You make what _I_ do matter. I want that back.”

Karrde's heart swelled like that of a proud father who'd just watched his beloved daughter graduate from the most difficult academy in the universe. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Mara never did anything by halves. He'd hoped she'd gain essential perspective on the business side of things. Only Jade would see his hope and raise him the heart and soul of the organization he'd built, then lay out her cards and offer him the entire sabacc pot _and_ a (literal) slice of kake besides.

He didn't even look at her numbers; he didn't have to. “When would you like to start?”

Joy crashed through Mara, sweet and warm, and she suppressed the desire to simultaneously laugh and weep. Clinging to her carefully devised plan to keep her equilibrium, she answered, “Four months. One to handle the technical details of the merger, three to finish my training and finally officially earn my Knighthood as a Jedi.”

Karrde blinked in surprise, then peered at her in concern. “May I ask what prompted that decision?”

“A piece of very wise advice from Organa Solo,” Mara admitted. “About knowing when and where to go things alone, and when not to.”

Talon raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Skywalker must be thrilled.”

Mara's lips set in a firm line. “I'm not training with Skywalker. Horn and Kataryn are going to work through what's left with me, and Kam Salusar will oversee my trials.”

Karrde didn't believe for a moment that Skywalker wouldn't haul thrusters straight back to Yavin IV the instant he heard that Mara was coming and insist on taking over her instruction himself. But if thinking otherwise was what it took for her to finish that part of her journey, he'd keep his doubts to himself.

“Are there going to be complications to having a full-fledged Jedi on my staff?”

“ _No.”_ Mara was emphatic on that point.  “My knighthood is something I'm doing for myself. I will make no promises to the Order, and I've been clear about that upfront.” She grinned wickedly. “Besides, I'm already an adopted Corellian, if you ask Solo and Horn. Corellian Jedi have never answered to anyone but themselves.”

Karrde snorted. “Booster claims Corellian Jedi are such a nuisance they were traditionally banished to their own system for everyone else's sanity.”

“Well,” she retorted practically, “then I'll 'exile' myself to your organization, and everyone should be happy.”

“Deal,” he agreed.

Again, there was no way he saw Skywalker going for that but, in this, he would fight to ensure she got her way. Despite the lure of the Force (and the possibility of a truly rare and galaxy-altering love between her and Skywalker, if the man ever got his head out of whatever orifice it was lodged in), Karrde knew he could take far better care of Mara than the Jedi.

Nudging his plate in her direction, he nodded toward her utensils. “A transaction of this magnitude calls for celebration. Help me eat this, and then we'll head back to the _Wild Karrde._ Give everyone the good news, and start hashing out the details.”

The _Mynock's_ cheesekake really _was_ a delicacy and, with the next steps in her plan falling neatly into place, celebration truly was in order. Refusing to calculate how many extra hours she'd have to spend in the gym to work off the calories, Mara helped herself to a liberal forkful of the lush dessert and savored it as it melted into decadent sweetness on her tongue. 

_You may have named me 'bitter', Palpatine you bastard, but even you can't make me stay that way._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol, introspection, and an unexpected visitor en route to Yavin IV.

There were many wonderful things about having a ship and no crew but oneself.

Not the least of these small pleasures was the ability to sit in the cockpit in one's pajamas, watching the starlines of hyperspace streak past over a steaming mug of hot chocolate. (Suitably spiked with Whyren's Reserve, of course.) The indulgently soft, fleecy sleep pants and top she lounged in were dark blue with obnoxiously bright yellow stars on them. They were terrible for her hard-bitten reputation, but they were also a gift (enthusiastically presented in person) from the adorably excited Solo twins, and she couldn't help but smile at the memory of their eager faces every time she wore them.

Happily, alone in the _Jade's Fire_ , she could wear and drink what she pleased without risking her image or having anyone leak reports back to a certain saintly, self-righteous Jedi Master that she still stocked (and had been corrupting) his favorite drink. She made a mental note to hide the stuff extra diligently before she landed. Just in case.

Her eyes flicked down past her drawn-up knees to the bottle of Whyren's sitting on the floor beside her. A thought had been nagging at her since she pulled it's stout shape from the storage locker earlier, and she finally stopped shoving it away and let herself properly think it.

_Did the Emperor use the Dark Side to aide my conception? Did he foresee me, and manipulate everything from the beginning? Or did he just give Dorme a handful of fertility boosters, a bottle of alcohol, and a pat on the head and assume everything would go according to plan?_

Palpatine had liked control – had been obsessed with it. He'd have liked to have had a hand in her making, if only to feel that he owned that much more of her soul, she was sure. But he'd also had a long history of operating through the manipulation of pre-existing systems, both natural and being-made. He had, by all accounts, reveled in out-maneuvering the Jedi using clones, the Senate, and other entirely non-Force-ly tools and processes. Wouldn't he have found some kind of dark irony in doing the same here?

_I wonder what Kenobi's pick of poison was? Rouge wine? Corellian ale? Whryren's? Severeen's?_

Mara snorted. Perhaps he'd been the model of Jedi sanguinity Skywalker tried to make of himself while he was with Callista. Just consumed, with aristocratic grace, whatever others had seen fit to offer him and quietly filtered it out of his bloodstream whenever he started to feel it.

_Maybe she never had to get him drunk at all._

Had Dorme been so skilled at seduction that she'd needed no alcoholic lubricant to slide her way into the Jedi Master's bed? Had she pulled him intractably from his vows with little more than the batting of long, painted lashes and glimpses of creamy skin under a strategically chosen dress? Were those skills one needed as a handmaiden? Mara realized she had no idea.

She'd never liked playing the seductress herself. Had only done so when it was explicitly and unavoidably required of her. Had Dorme felt the same? Or had she reveled in her siren's power? Would she have been disappointed in her daughter for failing to do the same?

_It was war. Maybe it wasn't even a proper seduction. Just a simple invitation to a night's comfort in arms he thought were safe._

Did it matter, really? Dorme had never intended for Mara to be anything but a tool. Was it of any consequence then, how she was forged? Was she any better a person, any less a piece of space trash if she'd been the result of an honest, pragmatic encounter than if she'd been an alcohol-fueled 'accident'?

_Anything but the dark side. Please, Force, don't let Palpatine's filthy tendrils of dark side energy have been there, woven into me the moment I was made._

Her hand trembled as she lifted her mug to her lips for another shaky sip. Then she carefully placed the emptied cup on the floor beside her and pressed her hands together firmly between her knees.

_He wouldn't have risked it,_ she told herself firmly. Kenobi was a Jedi, and actively on the run at the point. He'd have been stridently on the alert for even the faintest  whiff of the Sith. Surely the Emperor wouldn't have risked being directly involved in Dorme's plot via the Force, lest he tip Kenobi off and bring the whole thing down before it even began. 

_No_ , she decided, however quickly Palpatine had wormed his black claws into her – and that had certainly begun before she  was  born – she had, if only for a few short days or weeks, been pure at her start.  It wasn't much, but she grasped tightly to the tiny bit of solace the conclusion offered. 

“I envy you your Whyren's, you know.”

Mara jolted hard at the voice, suddenly not alone in the cockpit. She spun in her chair, her ever-present hold-out blaster snapping out and pinning the blue Force ghost with flawless aim.

“I didn't drink much, myself, but Whyren's was always a good accompaniment to philosophical introspection.”

“Get out.” The words were instinctive; an automatic reaction to having the sanctity of her ship violated.

Ben Kenobi sighed. “I know you can't think much of me right now, Mara, but surely we can speak at least a moment?”

“I have nothing to say to you.” Mara retracted her blaster and folded her arms, turning pointedly away from the Jedi to stare out the view port.

_I'm not ready._ This was wrong. This wasn't how it should have happened. It was too soon. She hadn't worked through everything. She was vulnerable, and being vulnerable made her prickly.

“I imagine you have some questions you'd like to ask,” Kenobi observed, agreeably. “Given the enormity of your recent discoveries.”

“Why the hell would I ask _you_ anything?” she snapped. She fervently hoped the sharpness of her tone would be enough to hide the sound of her pounding heart. “So you can feed me shavit from a 'certain point of view' like you always did Skywalker?”

“Yoda and I did what we thought was best for Luke,” Kenobi frowned. “As I would have hoped to do for you, had I known.”

“Well then, I guess I'm lucky you didn't,” she retorted, bitterly. “I'd have ended up a farm wife on an Outer Rim backwater, married off to some grease-stained idiot by the time I was fifteen, churning out fat, snotty babies until it killed me.”

Impossibly, Ben smiled. “I imagine that keeping you alive and in one piece growing up would have given me even more of a run for my credits than Anakin did.”

Vader. He was comparing her to _Vader_. Bile rose in Mara's throat and her stomach lurched. She pressed her hands together until her knuckles turned white. _He_ _ **does**_ _see evil in me._ _He's been here barely a minute, and it's that clear already._ _Oh Force._

“Get out. Now.” Her voice was a croak, and she cursed it. “Off my ship.”

“Mara,” Kenobi looked startled, peering at her abruptly as the hard tilt in her emotions flooded the Force.

“Now!”

He looked at her for another moment, sadness, regret and confusion etched in his features, before he closed his eyes and faded.

Mara dropped her forehead to her knees and wrapped her arms over her head, shutting out everything.

Her father – her _father –_ had been here, and the first person she made him think of was the second most twisted being  ever to walk the galaxy. He could spout pretty words about envying her all he wanted, but there wasn't enough liquor in all the universe to wash away that stain on her soul. 

For the first time in years, alone in her ship in the emptiness of hyperspace, Mara Jade wept.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jedi training, blunt love from a good friend, and some perspective, with a side of Skywalker angst. Just because. (A little more fun than the last chapter.)

While she could think of dozens of other places she'd rather be, Skywalker's “jungle full of Jedi” had its merits. At the moment, for example, Yavin IV's Jedi Academy boasted two of Mara's favorite Force users – Kyle Kataryn and Corran Horn.

As usual, they'd met for breakfast in the Academy's cafeteria to review Mara's training schedule for the day. The unforgiving training she'd grown up under made her current rotation of sixteen hours a day for six days in a row, then one day off before starting again, seem modest by comparison. Two dedicated trainers – Corran was on leave from the Rogues for a few weeks just for her, and Kyle had shifted his schedule around to accommodate an intensive focus on her training as well – coupled with her own determination and extensive existing experience, meant she was blowing through the required material significantly faster than they'd dared hope. A month in to what she'd expected to be a three month stint, she'd already covered most of the material.

“Seriously, Jade,” Kataryn was saying. “You keep this up, and you'll be ready for your trials in two, maybe two and half weeks.”

“Yeah,” Horn put in with a grin. “That'll leave time to come back to Coruscant and spend a few days drinking and celebrating with me, Mirax, and the Solos.”

“Hey!” Kataryn objected. “I'm working my tail off, too, you know. You can't leave me out of the drinking!”

“Fine,” Corran rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “You can come drink, too. But no tattling to Luke about what _really_ goes on when we put Mara and Mirax in the same place at the same time.”

“We were _exonerated,_ ” Mara reminded them primly.

Kyle laughed outright at that. Laughed too hard, in fact, to spit out the good-humored retort that came to mind.

“Back on track, boys,” Mara chided, not bothering to hide her own pleased smirk. “What's the priority for the morning?”

Kataryn checked the data pad. “Meditation for a couple hours, by yourself using that new technique we covered yesterday, then a history review with Tionne. Ace it, and you'll only have one Jedi history requirement left.”

“I'll meet you at the library when you're done, and we'll do the second-to-last module of the diplomatic negotiations curriculum,” Corran added.

“Then sparring with me until one of us is dead or neither of us can move,” Kyle confirmed, with a grin. “Any questions?”

A ripple passed over Mara in the Force and she made a face. “Just one – did either of you know Skywalker was due back just now?”

Horn and Kataryn shared a look, then both turned back to her, faces serious.

“No. You know we'd have told you if we had.” Kyle reproved.

“Right,” she acknowledged. “Does this change our plans?”

“Yeah,” Corran replied, giving her a lopsided grin reminiscent of Han Solo. “Now we do it real quiet-like.”

Mara snorted. “Oh good.”

Scraping her chair back, she stood up and picked up her tray. “I'm going to go dark in the Force. He knows I'm here, but that doesn't mean I have to make myself easy to find.” She pointed to the data pad with her training schedule. “Hide that.”

* *

Luke glanced around the cafeteria, trying to suppress his irritation. He knew Mara was on planet – he'd felt her briefly yesterday morning when he arrived, before she'd promptly 'gone dark'. Kam had informed him that she was rapidly approaching the conclusion of her training under the guidance of Kataryn and Horn. Thus far, however, he'd been unable to track any of the three down. Kam's copy of Mara's training schedule had been deleted with a note that it was too far out of date to be any good and a revised copy would be forthcoming.

Mara had, oddly, not taken quarters at the Academy, telling Kam she preferred to sleep in her ship instead. The _Fire_ remained, as always, locked up tight, and there was no response when he repeatedly pinged it. Neither Horn nor Kataryn had returned to their assigned quarters by 2300 the previous night when exhaustion from his trip had forced Luke begrudgingly to bed. He'd risen early this morning on Kam's advice that the trio typically discussed plans for the day over breakfast, but none of them had shown. By lunch they'd still not appeared, though Tionne had sought him out and let him know that she'd found a note from Kyle indicating they'd headed into the jungle for some of their training.

Sitting by himself, Luke ate mechanically and tried to sort through his jumbled emotions. He was elated that Mara had _finally_ decided to complete her training, but also undeniably hurt that she hadn't so much as mentioned her intentions to him. He was suspicious about her methods. Technically, he couldn't point to anything that outright forbade her apparent setup of learning under two masters without being sworn to either, but there also weren't any precedents for such a thing. He was surprised that she'd somehow managed to secure Horn from Wedge for several weeks, and curious as to how they'd managed to pull that off. (He suspected bribery, blackmail, or both was involved somewhere.) He was also disturbed by Kam's off-handed mention of the fact that Mara had apparently rejoined Karrde's fold, and would be returning to his employ once she'd achieved her Knighthood.

_Or maybe you're just rankled because she was right about Callista._

The thought was startlingly unexpected and unwelcome. He shoved at it, but it had lodged itself firmly in his brain. He'd had a lot of time to think while he'd chased Callista's shadow across the galaxy. One of the most frustrating realizations he'd come to while alone in the depths of space was that devoting himself to Callie had cost him Mara's friendship. Her leaving him did not automatically give him Mara back, however, and he'd found himself depressingly without _either_ of them now. He'd never entirely understand why Mara objected to Callie so fiercely, which had left him floundering for ideas on how to go about restoring their damaged friendship. Moreover, even if he _had_ understood, he wasn't convinced that Jade would be quick to forgive him. He'd chosen to pursue Callie even when it had become clear that – despite his pleas to the contrary - he couldn't have them both in his life, and Mara had not taken the perceived rejection well.

Finishing his meal, Luke bussed his tray and headed to the gardens to meditate. Callie would tell him it was unbecoming of a Jedi Master to have such a cluttered head.

_No, she wouldn't, because she's gone. She's not going to tell you anything, ever again. Ugh._

Folding himself into position in a secluded corner, Luke struggled to bring his turbulent mind to heel.

**

“Anakin Skywalker.”

“Sith bastard. Liked padded leather, auto-erotic asphyxiation out of context, throwing temper tantrums, and overly-elaborate TIE fighters. Hated sand, Rebels, and snarky Emperor's Hands.”

“ _Mara.”_ Corran tried to scold, but the effect was lost to the laughter he unsuccessfully tried to suppress. “Come on, you're so close to done.”

She sighed, and rattled off – verbatim – the approved summary of Anakin's Skywalker's place in Jedi history. She was _so_ ready for this part of the curriculum to be over.

“Better,” Horn praised. “Obi-wan Kenobi.”

Mara froze. Corran noticed. “What?”

Her jaw set, and she jerked her chin toward his right shoulder. Horn frowned and turned slightly, then turned all the way, his eyes widening.

“We were talking _about_ you. Not summoning you.” Mara's voice behind him was frosty.

“Well, since you're not speaking _to_ me,” Ben Kenobi's blue-haloed Force ghost said reasonably as he folded his hands mildly in front of him, “you can't really blame me for wanting to listen to you talk _about_ me.”

“Are you seriously Obi-wan Kenobi?” Corran gaped.

“Yes, he is.” To Kenobi, she snapped, “Go talk to Skywalker. “I'm sure he'd love to see you.”

“I think he'd rather speak to you, at the moment, actually. Like me.” Ben observed.

“I'm busy.”

Corran scooted his chair back and watched the spat with interest. After all, he'd never actually seen a Force ghost before, and – before she started snapping at Kenobi - he had been under the impression that Mara hadn't either.

“Yes,” the ghost concurred. “Learning about me, much to your apparent dismay. Why is that, I wonder? Do you blame me, for what the Emperor did to you?”

“Get out!”

Ben sighed. “I didn't know, Mara.”

Mara shot to her feet, light saber flying to her hand. “ _Get out_ ,” she repeated through clenched teeth.

“Whoa!” Corran's hands shot out to their side, as if to separate them. “That's enough!”

The ghost shook his head, regretfully. “You know you can't hurt me with that.”

Mara was seething, and that was more than enough to tell Corran where he stood even if he had no idea what was going on. “Are you here for a reason, Master Kenobi?”

The edge in his voice harkened back to his days with CorSec. It had never failed to make galactic scum sit up and pay attention. He was gratified to see that it got the Jedi Master's attention, if not respect.

“I'm here to speak to my daughter.”

Mara spat an ugly curse in huttese, then spun on her heel and stalked from the room. Corran took one more quick glance at the Force ghost's sad face, then took off after her.

* *

He caught her just as the ramp to the _Fire_ was lowering, and ducked inside after her in the split second before she sealed it behind her.

“What the kriff was that?” he demanded, following her as she stalked down the corridor toward the common room.

“He has no right!” Mara fumed, forcing herself to clip her light saber to her belt instead of throwing it across the room, which was what she really wanted to do. She compromised by punching the bulkhead. Twice. “How dare he just show up here?”

Corran leaned against the doorway and folded his arms. “Is he really your father?”

“He was a sperm-donor seduced by a traitorous _bicce_ on Palpatine's behalf.” Her tone was sharp, and her shields were impenetrable, but every muscle was taut and her expression was twisted into something between pain and disgust. “He never even knew I existed.”

Horn's heart twisted. “He obviously knows now,” he said quietly, cursing the Force that she'd managed the near-impossible – again – only be clearly left wishing she hadn't.

“I don't care!” She whirled, throwing her arms out in a wide slashing motion. “I don't want to see him. I don't want _him_ to see _me_.”

Apparently, for all that they eschewed the labels, their intensive weeks as Jedi Master and Padawan had had a larger impact on Corran's brain than he'd expected, because the next thing out of his mouth was pure Skywalker.

“Why? What are you afraid he'll see?”

Horn felt momentarily horrified to hear the words spouted in his own voice, regardless of the tender, compassionate inflection. Still, judging by the response, it was apparently the right question.

“ _Her._ Or _him._ ” The words were out before Mara realized she'd replied, and she choked, suddenly more overwhelmed than she'd been since she'd lain exhausted on the floor of the hold before her talk with Leia. Tears she couldn't dam flooded her eyes.

“Kriff, CorSec! My mother wanted to hand him over to Palpatine to be _butchered_ , which would have led him straight to Skywalker, too! What if he looks at me and sees _her_? Or – _f_ _ierfek -_ the Emperor?”

That was all of _that_ Corran could take. Crossing the room in a three quick strides, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Mara's hands balled into fists around his robes and she sobbed harshly against his chest.

“It was bad enough to be raised by the embodiment of evil when there was still some kind of hope that I might have been born to good people who loved me.” Her words were broken and garbled against his robes. “But I was birthed by a _traitor_ for the sole intention of _hurt_ _ing_ _people_.”

_A traitor._

It was the worst insult Mara had to offer, and Corran knew it.

To be a traitor was to embody the absolute lowest category of life in the personal taxonomy of someone who considered loyalty the purest form of honor and deepest level of commitment.

To discover she'd been created and borne inside the very body of such a creature was the equivalent of… well, he wasn't even sure, exactly. But maybe rather like discovering the loofah you'd just intimately scrubbed every bit of your anatomy with was actually the tongue of a Hutt, fresh from a feast of rotting Nal Hutta swamp frogs.

That she had been essentially commissioned by the Emperor for his personal, nefarious use doubled the insult. She hadn't even had the benefit of being an accident, innocently conceived in love or even just pleasure. His heart ached for her, but they weren't friends for nothing.

“That,” he informed her, even as he held her protectively, “is a rancor sized load of _shavit_ and you know it.”

An unbidden snort of laughter interrupted Mara's tears for a second, resulting in messy gasping and gagging noises as she struggled to bring her breathing back into some semblance of order.

“You are the most loyal person I know,” Horn remonstrated. “The idea that Ben Kenobi of all people is going to look at you and think of some crazy woman he kriffed a couple times _in the middle of a war_ instead of seeing the gorgeous, badass Jedi who routinely gives his last padawan _fits_ is absurd.”

“I do not give Skywalker _fits_.” Mara pushed back from his hold and scrubbed at her cheeks roughly, eyes glinting with a hint of her usual spark as she glowered at him.

“Yes, you do,” Corran shot back. “You give all of us fits, and you enjoy it, damn you.”

Through the last of her tears, Mara laughed and wiped her damp hands on her tunic. “You're right. I do.”

“Has it occurred to you that you might have inherited that trait from Kenobi?”

Mara actually took a full step back and stared at him as if he'd sprouted sarlacc tentacles. “Excuse me?”

“You've been reading the history,” Corran prompted. “You know full well that before the Clone Wars sent everything to hell, Kenobi set Yoda off all the time. There's no way that level of antagonization – just enough to be annoying, but never enough to really get in trouble – _wasn't_ _on purpose_. It's entirely possible you come by some of your snark genetically.”

Mara took another step back and fell unceremoniously into a chair. Her sense in the Force went wildly off-kilter for a moment, startling him, before she reined it back in and stared up, wide-eyed.

“Do you know,” she asked in a mildly awed, almost conversational tone, “that that is the first time anyone has ever suggested to me that I inherited something other than my hair color or Force sensitivity from one of my parents?”

Horn blew out a breath and sank into the seat beside her. “Honestly, I'm not quite sure I can wrap my head around that,” he confessed. “It's normal, though, you know. Most people have at least a couple aspects of their personality that mimic their parents, even if they never knew them. Like Luke getting Anakin's gift for flying.”

“Yeah,” Mara considered that. “I guess so.” Her gaze fell to her hands, laying limply in her lap. “I just never thought the concept would apply to me. The only traits in myself that I've ever associated with someone else were the ones intentionally drilled into me by trainers. The idea that some… core bits of myself….might have been accidentally tossed down the chute genetically is weird.”

Corran chuckled. “You make it sound like he chucked bits of his scrap heap at you. The fact that he didn't _know_ he was contributing to you doesn't mean the genetics he gave you were any different than they would have been if he'd loved your mother and being trying to make you on purpose. _”_

He paused, then caught her eye and said more softly, “You know, you probably get at least a little of that bone-deep loyalty from Kenobi, too, Mara. He gave up everything to guard a little boy who didn't know who or what he was until the day before he died. Never stopped regretting that he hadn't been able to save Anakin, either, if you believe Luke.” Horn reached over, took one of her hands, and squeezed it before letting go again. “It doesn't make you a less worthy person to admit you come by a few good things naturally.”

“Maybe,” she granted, eventually. “But I don't want to be known as Kenobi's daughter, any more than I want to still be known as the Emperor's Hand. It's all just other people's shame and glory heaped on my head.” _Besides, then they'd have to know about my mother._ Wait, when had she started using that term for Dorme?

“That's your prerogative,” Corran confirmed. “But it might not hurt to try being a touch less combative when he seeks you out.”

Mara looked up sharply, and he held up his hands placatingly. “I'm not saying you have to be buddies,” he back-peddled. “Just that you could consider _not_ drawing a light saber on him. Give him a chance.” He shrugged. “I'd imagine he feels pretty bad about the whole thing, you know.”

She shot him a derisive look. “About breaking his Jedi vows and being too stupid to use repress meds? Yeah, I bet his does.”

“Not what I meant,” he glared at her pointedly. “Well, okay, yes to the repress meds part. You suffered for two decades because he wasn't careful, and he was oblivious the entire time. Not really the kind of thing that makes a guy feel good about himself, Jade.”

She huffed, but he knew his words had gotten through.

“ _Fine._ If he shows up again, I'll play nicer. But only if he goes back to pestering Farmboy after that.” She scowled. “I'm going back to Karrde when this craziness is over. I can't afford to have random Force ghosts moping about while I'm working because I was nice _one time_.”

“Speaking of Luke,” Corran cleared his throat. “How long are you going to ignore his pinging the ship?”

“You can tell him I'm fine on your way out,” she suggested, hopefully.

“Nice try.”

“You're the Jedi Master,” she groused. “Isn't discussing my training with Skywalker supposed to be your job?”

“Mara.”

“Ugh!” Mara closed her eyes and ran through the old calming and centering techniques her trainers had taught her. She'd learned the new ones the Jedi officially preferred, of course, but still liked to use the old ones. They were so ingrained that they seemed to happen on their own once she'd started them, and she saw no point wasting energy focusing on the newer ones when they worked no better.

She could feel Skywalker's agitation and anxiety, and told herself she had nothing to feel guilty about. It was his damn Jedi training that had gotten her worked up in the first place. Besides, he'd shut her out easily enough when Callista was on the scene. It wasn't like he didn't know how. If he wanted to get worked up over her now because his blonde Force-void wasn't around to get into a tizzy over, that was his problem.

She _almost_ convinced herself.

Finally, she rose and straightened her tunic. “Come on, CorSec. Let's get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Corran and Mirax Terrik Horn, and their relationships with Mara. I hope I did CorSec at least a little bit of justice here.
> 
> Also, there is definitely some overlap between the last chapter and this one in Mara's fears of Kenobi seeing evil in her, but I actually wrote this chapter first and didn't feel like completely taking it apart and reworking to smooth that out. Sorry...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short-ish bridge chapter. Contains some Artoo love. Not glamorous, but necessary. 
> 
> I think it'll work out to only two, maybe three more chapters before we're done! I'd love to hear in the comments if there's anything you think I've forgotten or should include here. : )

Luke paced outside the _Fire's_ hatch and worked on not glaring at either the sleek hull or Kyle Kataryn, who had careened into the docking bay moments behind Luke, equally concerned about the volatile emotions ricocheting around Mara (and then Corran) in the Force before her shields clanged into place and cut them off entirely.

He was incredibly unhappy to have discovered just how thoroughly she'd walled off their bond. He hadn't paid it much mind while Callista was around and they'd spent most of their time on opposite ends of the galaxy. But now that she was _right here_ and still so out of reach, he was appalled with both of them. 

_How did we let it come to this? How did we not realize how bad this is?_

His finger compulsively pressed the comm button again, pinging the ship for the dozenth time. They knew he was there – they both had to. But whatever they were doing, neither seemed inclined to offer any reassurance, let alone entry to the ship.

//Why don't you just Force it open?// Artoo tootled, curiously.

“For the same reason you won't open it for me, even though I know you have the codes,” Luke grumped.

It had been enlightening but uncomfortable to discover that his beloved astromech somehow did not share his exile from Mara's affections. Somewhere along the line, he'd agreed to erect a digital firewall, and conducted all his discussions with her and tinkering with her ship behind its impenetrable boundaries. Exactly when, where, or how often the droid had run into Mara during Luke's tenure with Callie remained un-clarified. What _was_ perfectly clear was that Artoo loved Mara far more than he'd ever cared for Callie, and she'd gone out of her way to return the affinity while assiduously avoiding his master.

Frankly, given their history, the entire thing was baffling to Luke. Did neither of them remember that it was _him_ who'd hauled the little astromech through Myrkr, while Mara mocked and made threats? The worst part, he stewed, was that he very much wanted to be in Artoo's wheels – soundly back in Mara's good graces – yet the droid had been completely unhelpful in alleviating his own lack of direction on how he might go about getting there. 

(//Maybe you should ask Threepio// had been his latest, thoroughly groan-worthy, suggestion. //He's the one obsessed with studying human behavior.// Luke still wasn't sure how he'd refrained from banging his head against the nearest hard object  at the mere idea .)

He hit the comm button again and shot a surreptitious glance at Kyle, who had yet to move from his post leaning against the hull of a nearby ship. Upon hearing that Horn was inside with Mara, Kataryn had folded his arms, shut his mouth and settled in, seemingly content to wait in silence, saying only that he was sure Corran could handle whatever it was.

_Right._ Only Luke didn't want Corran to handle it. Mara had been his first student.  _He_ should be finishing her training now. No, wait. That was pride. Unbecoming of a Jedi. Or was it admirable adherence to training best practices? Dedication to finishing what he'd started? He wasn't entirely sure  any more  of the purity of his own motives. 

He  _was_ , however, getting increasingly convinced that if she didn't stop ignoring him, he might give in to the recklessness Master Yoda had so deplored.  After all, he was a Jedi Master. He probably  _could_ Force his way into the  _Fire._ He'd just have to  take his chances with losing another lim b... or worse.  But she wouldn't completely dismember him with Corran standing there.  At least he didn't  _think_ so.

The hatch hissed open, and the ramp descended. Mara and Corran appeared at the top and walked down with a calm that belied that intense turmoil of only moments before.

“Are you all right?” Luke demanded.

“Fine, thank you, Master Skywalker,” Mara said formally, inclining her head a fraction in deference appropriate to their relative statuses at the Academy.

Rather than appease his mood, however, the gesture merely se rved to emphasize the distance between them. “You didn't feel all right,” he challenged, wincing inwardly at the sulk in his voice. 

He was certain she heard it, but she glossed over as if she had not. “I apologize, Master Skywalker. My shielding was lax. It won't happen again.”

Of  _that_ , he had no doubt. “We need to talk.” 

“I'll see Tionne and make an appointment,” she consented, politely.

“ _Now,_ Jade. All three of you, actually.” 

“Are we going to have this discussion here, or would you like to take it elsewhere?”

The Trader was there in that remark, peeking out from the Jedi shell, and Luke didn't want to bait it and lose what little control over the situation he had. Drawing on the Force for calm, he answered, “I think my office would be best. Shall we?”

* *

Staring at the ceiling above his bed that night, Luke decided to chalk the afternoon up as a (very) minor victory. The four of them had reviewed Mara's training schedule, most recent assessment results, and long term plan.

She'd had no sympathy for his woundedness at being left out, but had judiciously refused to address the subject of Callista anything more than obliquely. Instead, she'd pointed out with tremendous poise and logic that he'd been busy on something apparently important enough to keep him away from both the Academy and his family for an extended period of time. She was ready, and Corran and Kyle were not only willing and available, but more than capable of seeing to her remaining education, allowing him to continue more vital pursuits.

That he'd have not only known, but had every opportunity to be involved, if he hadn't  _still_ been wrapped up in Callista-generated drama went unsaid.  He found it nonetheless painfully underscored by how easily they'd acquiesced to including him in what remained of her training and trials. 

To  his professional pride and personal  frustration, he couldn't insist of taking over her instruction entirely – there was so little left, and they'd done such a superb job that it would unavoidably come across as pointless and petty. Instead, he accepted the olive branch and the meeting had concluded peaceably. Aside, of course, from the fact that  Mara and Corran had steadfastly refused to divulge so much as a  _hint_ about what had  so violently  upset her earlier. They'd maintained it was personal, and  assured him it didn't matter since it  had been resolved anyway. 

_Which would be fine, except that I **know** she frelling told Kataryn later. _

That irritating little voice in his head nagged that once she'd have told him, too. Told him first, even. He felt a flicker of resentment against Callie deep in his gut.

_If you were going to leave me, why did you let me – **push** me – to give up Mara?_

It wasn't fair, he knew that. He was hurt, and still grieving his lost dreams. But, as he sighed and rolled onto his side, he couldn't help but feel that both he and Mara had been wronged.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara faces her Jedi trials and makes peace with her mother.

“Are you ready, Mara?”

Luke searched her face intently, his own wiped blank of emotion into the neutral, aloof front of a Jedi Master. He knew she hated the look with a passion, but for this it was the only face he could wear.

Tight shields obscured the nervous tension snaking through his gut and tingling down his spine.

Memories of his own trials never failed to make it difficult for him to send his students to their own. To be sending Mara - whose own history was so awash in abuse by the Dark Side and whose friendship he'd only just begun to win back in small, shaky steps over the last two weeks – was nerve wracking.

“I am.”

He couldn't imagine that she wasn't edgy herself in light of the monumental step she was about to take, but only alert calm showed in the way she held herself, in the composed arrangement of her features. He knew the expression intimately; could have called it to mind from memory in flawless detail if he'd closed his eyes from the many, many missions they'd undertaken together over the years.

“You will not need your weapons.”

“Understood.”

She made no move to remove them, however, and Luke felt a flutter of affection. He hadn't removed his when he'd faced his first trial in the Dagobah cave, either. Not, of course, that anything he'd done in _that_ event had turned out to be something worth emulating.

“You must do this alone, but we will sit vigil. Witnesses in the Force.”

He ached to reach out. To offer some tiny measure of personal encouragement, as he'd long expected he would, back when he believed he'd walk all the steps along this path with her. But he'd lost that right, and there hadn't been time yet to earn it back.

Mara's gaze left Luke's bright, troubled blue eyes and flicked to Corran. “Poke Kataryn if he starts to snore. I don't want to get distracted a crucial moment.”

“Nice, Jade,” Kyle muttered, trying to look put out and not quite managing.

Returning her regard to Luke, Mara paused. He'd never been as good at shielding his thoughts and feelings from her as he thought he was, and she decided – since she _was_ about to become a Jedi – to take pity on him. With neat precision, she peeled back the hard, encrusted layers of shielding around their bond.

She watched his eyes widen as she let him in. He'd uncovered the last barriers on his side of their bond the moment they'd agreed to let him help finish her training. She had not – until now.

_You can stop worrying, Skywalker. I've got this._

She felt a flood of warmth from him, and acknowledged it with an encouraging pulse of her own. Then she turned and walked confidently into the small temple to meet her fate.

* *

As soon as Mara disappeared through the shadowed opening, Corran dropped onto one of the giant boulders that sat in a semi-circle around the entrance.

“ _Force_ , that was hard.”

“She's barely started!” Kyle countered, his amusement just shy of taunting. “You're having a break down already?”

“It's not a break down,” Horn shot back. “I know she'll be fine. It's just… waiting. Knowing we're going to have to wait.”

“Sitting vigil for a padawan while they face their trials is an honor, Master Horn,” a mild voice reproved.

“ _Kriff._ ”

“Ben?” Luke turned in astonishment to see his old mentor sitting atop another one of the boulders, a younger man bathed in the same ethereal blue light beside him. “Father!”

“Hello, Son. You must be very proud to see your first padawan finally finishing what she started so long ago.”

“I am,” Luke acknowledged quietly. “Why are you here?”

They'd never come to trials before, that he was aware of. He was certain someone would have told him if they'd spontaneously developed the habit while he'd been away.

“We're here for Jade,” Anakin told his son.

Luke frowned in confusion. “Because she was the Emperor's Hand?”

Ben opened his mouth, but Horn cut him off. “Choose your words wisely, Kenobi.”

Luke half-turned, gaping at the Corellian's gall and the open animosity in his tone.

“He has a right to speak,” Anakin said, his voice low.

“It's all right,” Ben interjected between the two. “I'm here to show respect for Mara, Master Horn. Nothing more.”

_Not to spill her secrets._

It went unsaid but openly understood between them, and Corran eased off, nodding tightly. “It's good to have you then, Master Kenobi.”

Turning away from them, he resumed his seat next to Kyle, back straight, and stared at the temple. _Come on, Jade. You can do this._

Bewildered, and more frustrated than ever at being left out of a blatantly huge secret, Luke, too, finally turned to face the temple. Easing into a classic military “at ease” pose (long ingrained into him from his years as a Commander in the Rebellion), he closed his eyes and immersed himself in the Force.

Mara needed his attention, now. All of it, undivided and unmuddled.

_May the Force with you, Jade._

* *

Mara walked the temple's dark, rough-hewn corridors. She knew where the main chamber was, but unlike most of the others who'd trod this path, she'd felt the caress of the Dark Side the instant she entered. She didn't need to go straight to the heart of the space to face it. It slithered sinuously to her, draped itself with intimate familiarity around her shoulders and curves, whispering past her ankles like curling, crawling mist.

She was not a young, naive padawan of the kind that so often stumbled through the temple gate these days. Darkness _knew_ Mara Jade. It had played a hand in her creation, surrounded and sought her from the cradle - only to have her snatched away by the Light when she'd run Skywalker's clone through with a borrowed blade. Now, it wanted her back.

* *

Time had no meaning in the perpetual gloom of the temple's interior. Mara didn't bother to check her wrist chrono. The Force worked on it's own time, and pointing out that she thought it was being tardy would get her nowhere.

“You got my mother's beauty.”

The voice floated from the darkness ahead, and Mara stiffened. She did not reach for her light saber, though. In this, it would not help.

“Did I?” she asked instead, lacing her voice with careless disinterest. “Weren't you beautiful? Isn't that why the Emperor chose you to seduce the great hero of the Clone Wars?”

“Palpatine didn't choose me – I appointed myself,” Dorme sniped. She stepped from the darkness, garbed in the same heavy, ornate gown she'd worn in the holo of her that Mara had shown Leia.

“You appointed yourself Palpatine's whore?” Mara folded her arms and stared dubiously at the woman who had borne her. “In return for what? What did he promise you?”

“Justice.” Dorme slipped fine-boned hands into her voluminous sleeves and lifted her chin regally. Her eyes were dark under the heavy sweep of her long brown hair, pulled out to the sides in a complex style native to the upper echelons of Naboo society.

“Justice.” Mara's voice was low and hard. “For whom, exactly?”

“For Padme!” Dorme cried, her hands flinging violently outward. Her face twisted in anguish and hate. “Kenobi let her die, and he deserved to be executed for it!”

“Last I heard, Anakin Skywalker was responsible for Padme's death.” Mara's voice had cooled; it was almost neutral now. The same polite, unimpressed tone she kept on hand for negotiating deals for Karrde with people she considered not altogether intelligent.

Dorme noticed.

“You know nothing!” She spat, starting to pace as she ranted.

Dark Force energy kicked up at her heels spun around both women, rising in an almost invisible fog around them.

“Padme was an _angel_ and _devoted_ to our people! She'd never have been so _stupid_ as to love a Jedi – to get with child and disqualify herself for continued service! Not if Anakin hadn't done something to her. He used his filthy Jedi tricks to deceive her, defiled her name by committing atrocities he claimed were for _her_ sake. Then he _murdered_ her!”

“So why didn't you try to seduce him?”

She had to ask the question, but Mara refused to allow herself to give any real consideration to the horrible notion that she, too, could have been a child of Vader.

Dorme made an inarticulate noise of disgust. “And further dishonor my Queen's bed by adding to her lover's crimes against her memory? Never.”

“You're not making sense, Dorme. What justice was there to be had from punishing Kenobi? From giving Palpatine a child to corrupt?”

“Skywalker was Kenobi's responsibility,” the handmaiden snapped, glaring daggers at her daughter. “If he'd controlled his padawan, Anakin would have never been able to lead my angel Queen to her destruction. The Emperor knew that – he was a true son of Naboo. The only one willing to help me right the wrongs done to Padme and protect everyone else from the remaining Jedi's evil! I'd have given him _anything_ he asked to make that happen. What did it matter to me if he wanted one child in exchange for so much?”

The verbal slap was harsh, but only a single point of pain in the morass of fury and agony storming around Dorme. It should have hurt, but Mara barely noticed.

Instead, her attention was captured by a picture of Luke that – unbidden – filled her mind's eye with crystalline clarity. Surrounded by the lush green of Myrkr's forest, his face was chalk white – frozen in the shocked, dismayed horror he felt when she'd lashed out, snarling viciously that she wanted nothing more than to see him dead. When she'd cursed him for callously ripping her life to shreds with the single shot that had reduced the Death Star to ash.

Empathy flowed through the former Emperor's Hand in giant, engulfing waves.

How old had Dorme been when she'd watched, confused and helpless, from the front lines as the Queen and heart-sister she'd faithfully served since childhood was seduced and then lost to a golden-haired boy with powers she didn't understand?

How surreal had it been to grapple with the idea that the brave, brilliant woman who'd led a triumphant defense against the seemingly overwhelming power of the Trade Federation - who'd gone on to grapple with the greatest, more powerful minds in the galaxy - could have been laid so unbearably low by a mere boy and his oblivious young Master?

Mara did some basic math; her mother had to have been barely older when she'd been cast adrift in an unstable galaxy hurtling toward war than she herself had been when she'd brutally catapulted out of everything she'd ever been or known with the Emperor's death.

Only Dorme hadn't had a lifetime of training in relying only on herself, in doing whatever was necessary to get by. She hadn't been found and grounded by Talon Karrde and his kind pragmatism.

She'd been tossed her only life-line by a viper who dealt in deceit and death.

Oh, how Mara knew the power of Palpatine's silvered tongue and Dark Side manipulations. How many times had she watched him twist powerful men three times Dorme's age, with a lifetime of training and experience and unparalleled resources at their fingertips, around his gnarled pinky?

The heartbroken handmaiden had never stood a chance.

The words fell off Mara's lips like a honeyed benediction. “I forgive you.”

“I don't want your forgiveness!” Dorme screeched, throwing her hands wide, eyes and face wild. “I didn't want _you_.”

Mara felt the cutting words slice against her soul, but released the pain into the Force as she had when she'd taken a vibroshiv to the shoulder years ago on a mission.

“I know.” She shrugged, calm gaze resting softly on her mother. “But it's all right. No one has ever wanted me, so it hardly makes you unique.”

Dorme went utterly still.

The darkness licking at their heels began to seep back into the floor and walls.

The Nubian handmaiden looked improbably young, suddenly, her fancy gown too large for her small frame. She raised molten chocolate eyes to her daughter, her tone abruptly shifted to pleading.

“Stay with me. Don't go back out there to him.”

“Who?” Mara cocked her head curiously. “Kenobi? He's dead, Dorme. He can do nothing to me to now.”

“ _Skywalker,”_ Dorme shook her head urgently, lifting her hands in supplication. “Anakin's son. He can't be trusted – you mustn't listen to him. Mustn't follow him – he'll ruin you!”

The faintest of smiles played on Mara's lips. “That ship flew a long time ago, Dorme. He may be an idiot farmboy sometimes, but - for better or worse - I threw my lot in with Skywalker on Wayland.”

She paused. Glanced down at the light saber hanging from her belt. Then she looked up and met her mother's eyes.

“If there's going to be any justice from this whole mess, Dorme, it will come from this: Skywalker and I ended up on opposite sides of a generation's plots, sins, and hopes.”

Mara unclipped her light saber and held it out level in her palm, it's silver casing glowing as if with an inner light.

“It may have taken me a while longer to get here, but just like Farmboy, I'm going to walk out of this temple a Jedi… like my father before me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of one of the temples on Yavin IV serving as a surrogate for the cave in Dagobah for Jedi Trials is something I've seen in enough other fics that I'm not going to try to cite it; suffice it to say I openly recognize it's not new or mine. 
> 
> One more chapter to go! Next up: Mara reconciles with Luke and they talk family.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not in love with this chapter, but I'm actively choosing not to let perfect be the enemy of done... Deadline for the challenge is rapidly approaching and I've already gone crazy over the target word count anyway. So here we are. Enjoy!

Like every other equally strenuous and exhausting endeavor, successfully dancing with the Dark Side was best celebrated over high-proof alcohol. Or at least that's what Corran and Mara informed Luke, once Jade had successfully extracted herself from the temple and stumbled, dead tired, into her friends' waiting arms. 

Anakin and Ben had discretely vanished somewhere between the recognition that Mara had passed her trial and her actual appearance back at the temple door. Meanwhile, the Pulsar Skate had landed on planet and Jan Kataryn had hopped on board to help Mirax Terrik Horn prep a proper party to memorialize the day's momentous events. Sharing space with a veritable feast of high-fat, carb-heavy indulgences (and enough black, tar-thick caff to revive Mara's flagging energy) was a special contribution from Talon Karrde: half a case of genuine Ithorian Champagne. 

Luke couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. 

The Force glittered and sparkled with the party's shared joy, and their mutual pride warmed the ship's cozy common room until faces were flushed, sleeves rolled up, and tunics unbuttoned. When Mirax's praise of her husband's efforts in getting Mara through her curriculum so quickly turned toward the types of physical expressions that made Luke flush like an innocent Farmboy (which part of him still very much was), Mara took charge. 

Thrusting the Whyren's Reserve at CorSec, she pointed the Horns toward their stateroom and told them she didn't want to see them again until brunch. Handing the Kataryns the Severeen's (a known favorite of Jan's), she shooed them towards their own quarters in the temple complex with similar instructions. Grabbing the remains of the champagne, she commandeered Skywalker and dragged him up the side of the temple to the last small landing near the top. 

Plopping down, she motioned for him to sit as well, and leaned back against the cooling stone. Taking a generous, if indecorous, draught of the sparkling wine, she passed the bottle to Luke. 

Settling down beside her, he lifted it to eye-level, examining again the intricate label. “Isn't this a bit wasted on Jedi?” he asked. “We can clear it from our systems as fast as we can drink it.” 

Mara slanted a stern look in his direction. “You won't if you want to continue this conversation.” 

Luke considered that, then took a healthy swig. “All right.” 

“Tell me about your mother.” 

Blindsided by the request, the Jedi Master took a few more quiet sips of the wine before answering. 

“She was very beautiful and very sad. That's the first thing Leia told me when I asked her if she remembered our mother.” Luke stared at the bottle in his hands. “We never did figure out why she could remember that much and I couldn't. She was a Queen, and then a senator. But I'm guessing you've already heard pretty much everything I know from Leia and the kids.” 

Mara refused to show – or feel – even the slightest guilt at the dejection in his voice. So he knew that, like Artoo, his sister's family had grown closer to her while he was drifting away. She'd done nothing wrong, and she wouldn't be sorry. 

Beside her, he took another drink, irritated by her lack of reaction. 

“I was conceived as part of a plan to avenge your mother's death by one of her handmaidens.” 

Luke choked on his mouthful of champagne as he found himself gobsmacked for the second time in less than five minutes. 

“You found your parents?” 

Mara nodded, and took the bottle from him before he either killed himself or spilled it down the side of the temple. 

“Dorme blamed the Obi-wan Kenobi for letting Anakin seduce and kill your mother, as she saw it. Palpatine convinced her she could avenge her queen by seducing him and creating a child that could be used as leverage to lure him out of hiding to his death.” 

Luke's hand slid across the stone between them and wrapped around hers. “Oh, Mara.” 

“He didn't know. Not until after he became one with the Force, at least. Until I found out.” 

“That's why he was here, to sit vigil for your trial. He's your father.” 

Mara nodded, and sipped the champagne. Corran and Kyle had told her he'd come. “He wants to be.” 

Luke was quiet a moment. “Are you going to let him?” 

She lifted a single shoulder, then let it fall. “I promised Corran I wouldn't pull my light saber on him next time. That's something, I suppose.” 

He looked at her incredulously. “You pulled a light saber on Ben?” 

“He kept showing up, uninvited!” She defended. 

“Only you.” Luke laughed; he couldn't help it. Then he sighed, unable to ignore the twinge in his heart. “I missed you, Mara.” 

“I know.” 

She didn't say anything else but she inched closer to him, until her shoulder rested against his. Luke tipped his head sideways, until his cheek rested on the top of her head. 

They passed the bottle back and forth while she told him what she knew about Dorme. About Leia's counsel, and her realizations about being on her own instead of with Karrde. What she'd seen in the temple - the things her 'mother' had said, seeing his face at the turning point. 

Luke basked in the heat of Mara's body beside him, the taste of the expensive bubbly on his tongue, and the satisfaction of having his best friend back. A small piece of him ached at the knowledge that she wasn't going to stay. Her trial had proved that Mara would be exceptional Jedi – but he'd always known she would be. The things she could do for the galaxy if she stayed and committed herself to the Order were inspiringly mind-boggling. 

But he knew it wasn't meant to be and, aside from that small aching piece of his heart, he was happy for her. Mara had reclaimed the birthright Palpatine had tried to steal from her, and she'd found her place in the galaxy. Obi-wan Kenobi might have sired her, but Talon Karrde had loved on her as a father would since the day he'd met her. She had her family and her peace, and he could ask for nothing more. 

“What will you do now?” he asked, as they stared at the stars and listened to the calls and rumbles of the jungle's nocturnal occupants spread out below them. “You've got, what, six weeks left before you're due back to Talon?” 

Mara nodded, her soft hair rubbing against his jaw. “I was thinking about going to Naboo.” 

“Really?” Luke lifted his head and started at her, surprised. 

She shifted, self-consciously. “Dorme wasn't always the desperate, deluded woman she was when she died. I mean, she can't have been, right? She was a handmaiden to the Queen. Even if your mother shared your preposterously over-generous faith in people, her attendants would still have been screened repeatedly by people who knew what they were doing.”

Luke made a face at her. “Nice to know you think so highly of my judgment.” 

Mara rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously, Skywalker. Nubian security, the Senatorial Guard. Hells, even Anakin. There had to have been real reasons why they considered her worthy of the planet's trust in such a critical position. Why Padme held her close enough that your mother's death unhinged her so badly.” 

Luke watched Mara as she examined her fingernails with far more attention than they deserved. Finally, she continued. “Corran says he thinks I got my sense of loyalty and my predilection for giving you fits from Kenobi. I wouldn't mind finding some records on Dorme, if there are any left. Maybe… maybe I got something decent from her, too.” Mara clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Palpatine used her, Farmboy, and she didn't deserve that. Didn't deserve to end her life used and discarded.” 

Skywalker set the now-empty wine bottle aside and worked one hand patiently into the knot of Mara's. “No, she didn't,” he agreed, softly. “But I can't think of a better restitution for her than finding and carrying forward the best of what she was in you.” 

“Have I told you recently that you're a complete sap?” Mara tipped her head back to smirk at him. 

Luke grinned. “No, but I've forgotten since the last time you told me.” 

She laughed. 

His expression turned thoughtful. “Dorme might still have family alive, you know. Leia found Padme's parents, and our aunt. You might be able to meet them.” 

“Absolutely not.” Mara shook her head firmly. “If Dorme did leave family behind, they shouldn't have to know about me.” 

Luke frowned. “Karrde knows all about you, and he was pretty quick to accept you for an heir. Corran, and Kyle and Han and Leia – they all unofficially adopted you, too. Doesn't look to me like they've regretted a minute of it,” he reproached, gently. 

“That's because doing so didn't require them to acknowledge that someone they loved and were proud of died a bitter, deluded whore for the Empire.” Mara pursed her lips. “If Dorme has family, let them keep thinking she died a martyr, like her Queen, Farmboy. I've built my own family, now, and it's enough.” 

Luke looked at their intertwined fingers. His voice was quiet, hesitant; tentative and imploring with hope. “Am I part of that chosen family, again, Mara?” 

She pretended to consider her answer. “Are you going to come with me to Naboo?” 

Bright blue eyes leapt to hers, eagerly. “Really?” 

“You do know your way around, already.” 

“I'd be honored to go to Naboo and research your mother with you, Mara.” He squeezed her hand, elated and humbled at the same time. 

Mara raised an eyebrow. “You know you're going to have to run interference with Kenobi, right? I promised CorSec I wouldn't run him through, but if he compares me to Vader again I reserve the right to kick him out of my ship.” 

“He compared you to -?” Luke cut off the question, deciding not to spoil the moment with that story. There'd be time enough to hear it later. “Yes,” he promised seriously. “I'll play mediator between you and Ben.” 

Mara leaned her head against Luke's shoulder and closed her eyes, softening into the long-missed feel of him. “In that case, yes, Skywalker. You're part of my family again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Original Story Prompts from http://operaticspacetrash.tumblr.com/:
> 
> (1) Post-Callista trilogy, Mara breaks out on her own and during her travels and work as in independent trader, she finally begins to seek out information about who her family was. She could meet a distant relative or she can just find out information, but lots of introspection about what it means to her, all messy, complex feelings and all. Bonus points if she somehow has a heart-to-heart with Luke about discovering the identities and secrets of your birth family. 
> 
> (2) I read a fic somewhere in which Mara discovered that Obi Wan was her father, and while I don’t think I’d ever want that to be cannon, I’d love to see it explored more in a fic. Let’s face it, stealing and raising Obi Wan’s secret kid is exactly the sort of revenge that Palpatine would relish, and how would Mara react to finding out that, once again, her life under Palpatine was never about her? So much angst! (What if Obi Wan banged one of Padme’s handmaidens, and she’s Mara’s mom? Dorme? Palpatine would have obviously killed Mara’s mother, but there could still be a chapter in which Luke and Mara travel to Naboo to find answers about their mothers from their extended families). 
> 
> A/N => I took a few liberties with the Obi-wan/Dorme pairing that probably aren't what the prompter intended, but they worked for me...


End file.
